A Quote by Natalie Dormer
Famously, Anne Boleyn was not a beauty: she was more about quirkiness and an innate sensuality, and there are a lot of references to her eyes. Which sends out a great message for women, because life is not about the aesthetic all the time.
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Anne Boleyn is an intriguing character. She seems to appeal to modern-day women in a very potent way. Because she was such an independently opinionated and spirited young woman, which at the time was unheard of.
I think the thing about Anne Boleyn is there is an exotic quality to her. This is a woman who wasn’t raised in the English court. She was in the French court and Hapsburg court. She has a continental exotic quality to her. She’s quite a fiery woman and incredibly intelligent. So I think Anne really stood out – fire and intelligence and boldness – in comparison to the English roses that were flopping around court, she would’ve stood out. And Henry noticed that.
People ask me if I think Anne Boleyn was a feminist... but she wasn't striking out on behalf of women, and she wasn't particularly keen on them.
I'm a big fan of Lady Gaga. I think she's kinda what modeling is about in a way: Unique-ness, different-ness, edginess, quirkiness is actually special and I think her message is - I wouldn't say it's exactly like my message - but there are similarities in embracing your uniqueness. When she talks about being born this way, I really think she's absolutely fabulous.
Anne Boleyn was a warrior forced to use the only tools available to a woman in her position at that time. She was bold and ambitious, and had she had a son, history would have been very different.
If the next car passed is blue, Violet will be okay, she thought. If it's red, A will do something horrible to her. She heard a growl of an engine and shut her eyes, afraid to see what the future might hold. She'd never cared so much about anything in her life. Just as the car was passing, she opened her eyes and saw a Mercedes hood ornament. She let out a long sigh, tears coming to her eyes once more. The car was blue.
Without beauty a girl is unhappy because she has missed her chance to be loved. People do not jeer at her, they are not cruel to her, but it is as if she were invisible, no eyes follow her as she walks. People feel uncomfortable when they are with her. They find it easier to ignore her. A girl who is exceptionally beautiful, on the other hand, who has something which too far surpasses the customary seductive freshness of adolescence, appears somehow unreal. Great beauty seems invariably to portend some tragic fate.
I sing to my wife; it helps me. She was my muse. I've written so many songs about her, to her, with references to her, and still do. She's a big part of my life. We were together for 33 years. It actually does me good - she's with me all that time in that way.
Now, Bella suspected by this time that Mr. Rokesmith admired her. Whether the knowledge (for it was rather that than suspicion) caused her to incline to him a little more, or a little less, than she had done at first; whether it rendered her eager to find out more about him, because she sought to establish reason for her distrust, or because she sought to free him from it; was as yet dark to her own heart. But at most times he occupied a great amount of her attention.
My mother hid the struggle from us children. She complained about her salary, and she had a tough time. Although she became a headmistress, she still had to do a lot of sewing. The more I think about her, the more remarkable I realise she was. And she understood straight away when I said that I wanted to write.
She narrowed her eyes and concentrated on his mouth. Name. He wanted her name. She had to think about it for a second before she remembered. Great. She must have hit her head. Which, duh, explained the headache.
Women have innate talents and exceptional abilities that go unnoticed by our society, and that women themselves often do not fully appreciate. If every woman were to listen closely enough to her own secret song- not simply with ears, but with eyes (all three!), loins, breasts, heart, spirit, and soul- she would discover a power that she has carried with her since before the beginning of time.
There is something indefinably keen and wan about her anatomy, and she has a watchful way of looking out of the corners of her eyes without turning her head which could be pleasantly dispensed with, especially when she is in an ill humour and near knives. Through all the good taste of her dress and little adornments, these objections so express themselves that she seems to go about like a very neat she-wolf imperfectly tamed.
From the beginning, Madam C. J. Walker's message was as much about hair and beauty as it was about empowering other women. She knew that confidence and self-assurance are key ingredients to success, and that true beauty comes from within.
Until the day she died, my mother continued to fight for the rights of women. She joined all the women's movements of the time; she stirred up a lot of revolts. She was a great woman, a great figure. Women today would like her immensely.
A coquette is one that is never to be persuaded out of the passion she has to please, nor out of a good opinion of her own beauty: time and years she regards as things that only wrinkle and decay other women, forgetting that age is written in the face, and that the same dress which became her when she was young now only makes her look older.
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